


Legends Never Die

by trickster_grrrl



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, References to Supernatural (TV), Season/Series 12 Spoilers, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:11:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14563737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickster_grrrl/pseuds/trickster_grrrl
Summary: In which Loki learns that some people are too important to the Universe to pass on. They deserve better, no matter what cruel, poorly-written device have diction over their life.





	Legends Never Die

**Author's Note:**

> Infinity War Spoilers  
> Supernatural Season 12 Spoilers
> 
> Give a Kudos and comment if you enjoy it!

_“I wouldn’t worry, brother. I have a feeling everything is going to turn out just fine.”_ _  
_ _…_

_“The Tesseract was destroyed with the rest of Asgard!”_

_…_

_“I take it you have a personal preference.”_

_“Yes I do.”_

_…_

_“Alright_ **_STOP_ ** _!”_

_…_

_“The sun will shine on us again, brother.”_

_…_

_“You will_ **_never_ ** _be a god!”_

_…_

_“Loki! NO!”_

_…_

 

Loki clawed desperately at the Titan hands crushing his throat, Thor’s screams ringing in his ears. In the back of his mind, buried beneath the fear, the panic, the fight for survival, a single thought whispered to him:

This is it. This is the end.

Though he struggled to stay alive, an odd calm washed over him, pushing out the charred and mutilated bodies all around him; for a moment he forgot about the destroyed ship, the aches and wounds that afflicted his body.

He was going to die, and his brother was going to live. He would see his mother soon.

That fact alone was almost enough to make him smile, one last time.

As the edges of his vision began to darken, he focused on the seething hatred coursing through him, staring down at Thanos, his heart pounding in his ears.

Darkness enclosed him.

The last of the pain faded.

Thor’s cries were the last sound he would hear.

Peace took him at last.

Then, there was nothing.

 

…

 

_Darkness._

_An endless Void._

_Floating._

_Nothingness._

 

_There was no fear._

_No pain._

_It was the silent comfort of a deep, dreamless sleep, stretching out towards eternity._

_All rage, dissolved._

_All hatred and regret, forgotten._

 

_Just… peace…._

 

_But as the velvety darkness folded around him, a single voice whispered out from the abyss, resolute and solid:_

_“We do not accept this.”_

 

…

 

Loki opened his eyes. He drew in a sharp breath, fingers flying to his throat, but the Mad Titan’s monstrous hands weren’t there to crush his windpipe. He looked around; no destroyed ship, no bodies of slaughtered Asgardians. No Thor. No Thanos.

Where was he?

The room was dark, lit only by a crackling fire in a stone hearth, and a gas lamp sitting on a desk beneath a window, casting deep shadows across the room, dancing along the walls.

Outside, it was pitch black. Loki’s stomach twisted in realization; _The Void._

He sat up, his hand still on his throat. He could still feel Thanos’ hands wrapped around him, crushing the life from him as Thor screamed….

“So,” a voice said. “You’re awake.”

Loki leapt to his feet, his hand instinctively reaching for his dagger, only to find it missing. He hadn’t noticed someone sitting in the high-backed velvet chair beside the fire, an amber drink in one hand.

Loki had to squint to get a good look at the person, hidden deep within the shadows cast by the fire.

The man was short and pudgy, dressed in an elegant black suit and silver tie. His beady eyes caught the light from the fire as he watched Loki, a smirk on his bearded face.

Loki waited for an attack, for the man to strike, but nothing happened. He forced himself to take a breath and hissed out, “Who are you?”

“The name’s Crowley, King of-” The man stopped, his words dying like smoke from a candle. His dark eyes glazed over for a moment, his thoughts suddenly pulled away.

“Well,” he continued at a murmur, “ _former_ King of Hell….”

Loki furrowed his brow, frowning at the title. There _was no_ King of Hell. Hela was destroyed with Asgard, so who was this man?

“Where am I?” Loki growled. “How did I get here?”

“Ah, now _that_ is a complicated question. Where are you? No idea. How did you get here? Well, I assume you died somehow.”

Loki swallowed, his heart pounding. So, he _was_ dead. But this was not Valhalla. So _where was he_?

“Probably through an act of sacrifice,” Crowley continued. He tilted his head forward, watching Loki. Loki fought the urge to look away. Crowley’s gaze felt like it could see into his very soul. Whoever this person was, he radiated power and darkness.

At the word ‘ _sacrifice_ ’ however, Loki looked down. Thor’s cries echoed in his ears.

_You truly are the worst, brother._

“Hmm. So I am right. _That’s_ why you’re here.”

“I sacrificed myself to save my brother.” And probably the whole Universe. Crowley took a sip of the amber drink in his hand.

“How admirable; I gave up my life so three morons could stop the Devil himself.”

Loki didn’t understand what any of that meant, but he began to see the connection.

Slowly he sat down on the edge of the couch he had woken up on. His guarded lowered somewhat as the initial threat of an attack began to die.

“So what happens now?” he asked Crowley. Crowley looked to the side of the room and smiled.

“That is entirely up to you, and _her_.”

Loki followed Crowley’s gaze. He jumped to his feet once more.

How hadn’t he noticed her before?

Luminescent white hair tumbled down think shoulders, matching her glowing white and silver eyes that froze Loki to the spot. But it was her skin that filled him with awe; a body made of Night. Swirling galaxies, stars, suns dying and birthing, danced across every inch of her blue-black skin. Loki couldn’t tear his eyes away, he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“Hello, Loki.” Her voice wrapped around him, filling him up, pushing away all worry and fear and apprehension, leaving only the serenity that cradled him before he awoke in this strange place. The voice he had heard in the Void.

“Who are you?” he whispered. She looked barely older than a teen, but she radiated more power than anyone or anything he had ever encountered; more power than the Tesseract, than Thanos, Hela, Surtur, even Odin.

It was like staring into Creation itself; life and death, light and darkness, beauty and horror. But he was not afraid. Her presence left him feeling nothing but comfort.

“I do not have a name,” She said. “I am known simply as Fate-Mother.”

“You brought me here,” he murmured, watching a spiral galaxy travel down her neck and across her shoulders, stardust scattering like freckles.

Fate-Mother smiled. Dazzling. “Yes, but only because it has been deemed so.”

Loki frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t understand, am I dead or not?”

Fate-Mother sighed, something akin to sadness sweeping across her ethereal features. “You are, in a sense. That is why you are here.”

Slowly she walked towards him. Loki flinched back, but the aura of comfort that flowed from her washed over him like a soothing tide, stifling his anxiety and chasing away his fear. She barely came up to his chin, but she made him feel so small.

She sat down on the edge of the couch and motioned for him to join her.

“Can you send me back?” Loki asked before the thought had even finished forming. He had to get back to Thor. He had to help. He had to stop Thanos. Thanos had the Tesseract, which meant he was one step closer to ending the entire Universe.

He looked desperately at Fate-Mother, but her frown was enough of an answer. It shattered the last of his hope.

“No. I’m sorry. It’s rare that someone who has come to my Domain can return to the exact Universe they originated from. It could happen, but….” She shrugged her small shoulders. “The odds are not in your favor.”

Loki curled his hands into fists, forcing himself to breathe, to stay calm.

“Then what _will_ you do with me? Why did you bring me here? Where is this place?” The questions spilled out of him, so that the torrid rage storming inside of him did not cause tears to fall instead. Guilt and sorrow and remorse swirled through him like a hurricane.

Fate-Mother placed a small, starry hand on his arm, and immediately the storm inside of him began to calm. Loki almost leaned into the touch. When was the last time someone had treated him so gently?

“Loki,” she murmured. “Let me explain. When a Soul such as yours - tortured, broken, flawed, yet beloved, deeply and selflessly, resonates with so many others, it leaves a Mark. It becomes connected, by the people who see themselves in you. That connection is what tethers you to this Existence. It’s what keeps you from fading away. People have felt your struggles, heard your story, and have been touched by it. More so than you realize.”

Loki listened, but didn’t understand. Who was she talking about? What people heard his story, and _sympathized_ with it? He was hated by everyone he ever came across. He had killed innocent people, destroyed entire cities. He had betrayed his family, his own brother, in pursuit of a throne he felt was rightfully his. It was only when it was too late that he realized his own folly, and now….

Fate-Mother seemed to sense his thoughts. She smiled, and gently continued, “You are loved, Loki, by people who see themselves in you. Outcasts, people ostracized by their own societies, their own families. Rebels, and tricksters. People who felt lost, and loss, and immense, immeasurable grief. Your flaws and faults only cemented their love for you. They refuse to let you fade into oblivion. When news of your death reached them, their Souls cried out in anger, in vengeance, and defiance. It’s what carried you here. They refuse to let you go.”

Loki tried to imagine it, but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine having such an impact on other people, not in a positive way. Sure, he saved the refugees in the end, but he has done so much worse.

How could people love him after all of that? Who cared for him so much, that not even Death could claim him?

Loki glanced at her, then around the room once more.

“And where exactly is ‘here’? If I am dead, is this the afterlife?”

“It is an In-Between place, a Never Place. It is where Souls who carry too much weight and importance to the Universe are taken, the ones that are too beloved to let go. Your Fate is ingrained in Time and Space, in Stars and Universes far beyond your knowledge. It lives in every lost and broken soul who finds a mote of comfort in your existance. While there are still people alive whose souls resonate with your own, you will never die. Not completely.”

Fate-Mother placed her hands apart, spreading her fingers wide. Loki stared, his mouth falling open as a cloud of galaxies and stars formed between her hands. They swirled together, until an image emerged, like looking into a foggy mirror.

A young girl sits alone in a bedroom. She’s crying, her face contorted in a deep emotional pain that Loki could feel all too well, its phantom fingerprints still embedded in his heart. Staring at her, it’s as if Loki could feel all of the misery she was suffering from, and the reasons behind it; all of that loneliness, abandonment, isolation. Her family, her friends, her world. Everything was against her.

The galaxy-mirror ripples, and changes. A young man in dark clothes sulks down an alley late at night. Loki can feel the rage burning inside of him. No…. Inside of _her_. She didn’t belong anywhere. She couldn’t tell the people she loved most what she was, who she was, out of fear.

_I want to burn this place down_. The thought hissed through Loki’s mind like a snake through grass.

Loki sighs, remembering a time where his own rage had consumed him. He feels the urge to reach out for the child, comfort them. Let them know they’re not alone.

The image changes a third time. This time though, there is no pain, no loneliness, no hurt or anger.

There is joy.

Loki feels the breath escape him. An entire hall of people, each and every one of them smiling and laughing, glowing with excitement, dressed in green and gold armor, wielding daggers and scepters.

Loki has to blink to make sure he is seeing things correctly; they are all dressed as _him._

Different versions of him, he can tell. Some are him in tasteful women's armor or dresses. Some are him in chains, in the sleek black suit he donned when he journeyed to Midgard to find Odin.

But they were all _him._ A different emotion filled Loki. His heart ached, but not from loneliness. His heart swelled with a feeling of wholeness, of completeness.

_Family._

That is what this hall shows him. All of these people, all harboring their own pains, their own anxieties and loneliness, their own secrets. They all found this place, each other. They were all together, some forgetting the pain of loneliness for the first time when they stepped into this place.

They were all there, connected. Because of _him._

An amusing thought struck him suddenly, making him fight back a smile.

_It seems I have an Army._

The images disperse in a scattering of starlight, and the Fate-Mother watches him with a satisfied smirk, her silver eyes holding a hint of mischief.

Loki sat back, processing all that had just been shown to him. In another life, in another universe, he is worshipped. He is a Hero. He is loved. After all that he had done, he is forgiven.

“You chose the path of Redemption,” Fate-Mother continued. “Unfortunately, your life was cut short before you could truly fulfill that potential. An unjust, and unfair ending. So, this is your second chance.”

Fate-Mother rose to her feet, and walked to a corner of the room, where a door Loki had not noticed before sat in the shadows. She placed her hand on the knob, and extended her other one towards Loki.

“If you decide to, you may return. You exist in an infinite amount of Universes. Different lives, different paths to follow. The life you came from is only one. You don’t have to stay here.”

Loki rose, and joined her in front of the door, placing his hand in hers. Her hand was tiny compared to his, but it hummed with magic and power.

“But, Crowley chose to stay here.” He looked back at the King of Hell, who raised his drink in a silent toast.

Fate-Mother nodded. “He chose not to return, for now. You may also choose to stay. Not many do. Normally Souls that are brought here go back to a universe where they are allowed to be happy: to live and love, to fulfill what they should have been allowed to do in their original lives, before being cut down mercilessly and pointlessly.”

Fate-Mother squeezed Loki’s hand. He could feel how strong she was, despite her small stature. “Not every Hero or redeemed Villain comes here, Loki. Only the ones who have made such an impact that it causes the stars to tremble, and surpasses the barriers of worlds. They live on forever.”

Loki looked back into the room. His mind was reeling. He didn’t know what to think. But he had to give Fate-Mother an answer.

“May I… have some time?” he murmured. Fate-Mother nodded, that comforting smile returning. For a flash of a second, Loki was reminded of his own mother. The ache in his chest returned, noticeably more painful.

“Your life and people are waiting for you, if you choose to return to them.” She opened the door. Darkness waited on the other side. “Your people will continue to love you, no matter what you choose. Remember, Loki: Heroes are remembered, but Legends never die. They simply… disappear from time to time, only to return when we most need them.”

She stepped out into the Void, and with a final smile, dissolved into dust and starlight.

The door closed softly behind her.

Loki turned back towards the room, his heart in the pit of his stomach, his mind still shocked and awed by the strange, benevolent Being.

“Leaves quite an impact, doesn’t she?” Loki looked up to see Crowley smiling at him, eyes soft. “So, what are you going to do?”

Loki dragged a hand over his eyes, thinking.

“Well, whatever you decide to do, you have plenty of time to do it.” Crowley poured out more of the amber drink from a crystal decanter on the desk. “As for me, I’m staying. Let someone else deal with the Chaos, the Apocalypse, the fighting. I’m calling this my Retirement. It’s about as close to Paradise as I’ll ever get.”

Despite himself, despite the whole situation, Loki felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He returned to the couch and sat down heavily, placing his head in his hands.

Footsteps drew closer.

“Care for a drink?”

When he looked up, Crowley stood in front of him holding a second glass of amber liquid. Loki took it and sipped, the alcohol burning his throat.

Perhaps… staying here, for a while, wouldn’t be so bad. Crowley seemed like interesting company at the very least. He could sort out his thoughts. He could plan his next move.

Loki thought of Thor, and Thanos. Fate-Mother said he wouldn’t be able to return to _that_ Life, but what if there was a Life out there where he and Thor could be happy? No Thanos. No Tesseract. No fighting.

Him and his brother, ruling side by side.

That’s the Life he would choose.

For now thought, he wanted a rest. _Needed_ one, really.

“So, Crowley,” he said, relaxing back into the soft cushions. “Tell me your story.”

Crowley returned his seat and smiled. “Ah, now that is quite a tale.”

“Well, as you said, we have the time.”

Yes. He would stay here, for now. In this In-Between place.

Dead, but not gone. He would return someday soon, he was sure of it.


End file.
